


Bambi Eyes

by Bearslayer



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Light Masochism, Murder Wives, Smut, Villanelle is a service top you can't change my mind, overly wordy probably but I have feelings, spoilers up to season 2 ep 6, this is very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:21:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24034210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bearslayer/pseuds/Bearslayer
Summary: Villanelle gets a visitor late one night.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 50
Kudos: 423





	Bambi Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written in over a year, then this happens.
> 
> Takes place between episode 6 and 7 of season 2.

A knock on the door was the last thing Villanelle expected so late at night. She certainly wasn't expecting anybody after her plans for the night were already set in stone and involved her nestled between the thighs of a beautiful tourist whose name escaped her. The woman smelled like cheap beer and cheaper shawarma, but Villanelle needed to relieve her frustrations somehow. Until the knock came she was perfectly content to close her eyes and delve deep into the fantasy that the woman was the one she really wanted; something admittedly hard to do with her blonde friend watching from the edge of the bed. Villanelle had instructed her to wait her turn to allow herself to get lost in reverie.

Villanelle lifted her head, hand stilling over the brunette's center. “Was that the door?”

“Ignore it...” The woman whispered, voice breathy and annoyingly soft. Her hand moved up to cup Villanelle's cheek, trying to entice her to stay.

“No.” Villanelle responded, pulling her hand away and moving toward the door.

A glance through the peephole gave Villanelle a jolt through the spine that neither of the women in her bed had managed with their clumsy touches and heavy perfume. 

Eve. 

Through the fisheye of the peephole Villanelle could tell she was distressed, though the fact that she was there at all past midnight attested to that well enough on its own. Eve knocked again, giving a soft sigh and running a hand over her face. Villanelle watched her movements, as she often did, and as she often did, she mimicked them. She ran a hand over her face, her lips, wishing it was Eve's she was touching, a longing more intense than any other emotion she could scrounge up. There had been many nights that she had allowed that longing to build a fire in her belly that could only be brought back to embers, never fully extinguished. Blinking hard, Villanelle moved away from the door and turned to look at the pair populating her bed.

“Get out.” She said with no preamble, scooping up the heels left at the entrance and throwing them to the bed. 

“What? Why? Who is it?” The blonde protested.

“My girlfriend is home. Go out the back door. Go! GO!” Villanelle hissed, moving towards the bed, arms flapping as if she meant to scare away a predator. She had dropped the British accent she had been using to entice them before, knowing that her real accent tended to be more intimidating. She refused to have Eve come to her so late and see her bed already occupied. 

“Villanelle? Are you there? The lights are on... Is everything okay?” Eve called, knocking again – this time Villanelle could hear the worry even in the knock. It made her smile towards the door, even as she moved to the bed to gather up the blankets and shake them, trying to shoo the women out faster. 

“Get out of here or I'll skin both of you!” She snarled, voice a harsh whisper to avoid Eve hearing, “The door is in the kitchen, go!”

“You're crazy!” The brunette protested as she hastily yanked her panties up. She scampered off the bed with her friends help, being dragged by the hand. “I hope your girlfriend sees us!”

“If she does I'll mail your eyeballs to your families!” Villanelle warned. She corralled them towards the back door, practically chasing them.

“Villanelle? I'm coming in!” Eve's worry had peaked remarkably fast. The unmistakable sound of a key in a lock caused her to shove the two out bodily. She slammed the door behind them, turning just in time to see Eve walk in.

“Eve! Hi! I was just out in the back here...” Villanelle lied, moving to the sink. She had to clean her hands of the scent of the others.

“Why?” Eve asked, reasonably.

“Sometimes I like to look at the sky?” Villanelle offered, weakly.

“Ah, yes, the beautiful star filled London sky.” Eve returned, voice purposely monotone. Villanelle gave a snort, choosing to switch the topic before Eve switched into detective mode and tried to analyze why she was lying.

“Why are you here? Are you drunk?” Villanelle asked. Her redirect was immediately effective as Eve scoffed.

“No! I just... wanted to check in with you before your big date.” Eve lied (she was a terrible liar, all wide eyed and incredulous) as she moved further into the apartment. 

“At...” Villanelle looked at the clock on the oven's display, “1:27 in the morning?”

“You're awake, aren't you?” Eve deflected, shuffling along to a seat at the kitchen island.

“If you wanted to see me you could just admit it.” Villanelle teased, grinning at her. She loved to watch Eve squirm, and squirm she did.

“I can just leave if you're going to be like that.” She protested, though despite her words she sat down and put her purse on the counter. Villanelle leaned over the island, resting her elbows on the surface and her chin on her hands. 

“Oh, don't be so sour. You know I like to tease you... Come on. Talk to me.” She pouted out her lower lip in a way she hoped was endearing. Her efforts were met with rolled eyes. Eyes that Villanelle was a little obsessed with. The expressions they held were so wild and vivid.

“I'm just -” Eve shook her head roughly, hair that was bound up in a ponytail flicking back and forth behind her. “... Niko moved out.”

Villanelle wracked her brain for the appropriate response. She was glad that idiot man had gone away, and hated that Eve claimed to love him when it should be her that Eve loved the way one loves a spouse. And yes, perhaps she did have some role in the offending husband leaving, but she hadn't done anything but make him aware of what was going on in Eve's life. She had made him aware of her spot in Eve's life, of the place on her belly that still ached wonderfully as a reminder that she and Eve were the same. She found a hand drifting there to touch it over the clothing she still wore, watching the woman sitting across from her. A woman who deserved far, far better than some boring teacher who was threatened by Eve's success in her field. Which Villanelle felt partly responsible for as well, all things considered.

“You're upset?” Villanelle offered. Her tone made the inflection very ambiguous. It could have been a question or a statement. Villanelle wasn't even sure.

“Of course I'm upset!” Eve snapped, putting her head down. So dramatic.

“Do you... want a... hug?” Villanelle tilted her head, watching as Eve's head shot back up, big eyed once again at the suggestion. 

“A hug?” Eve asked, her confusion soaked tone another thing that Villanelle found ridiculously endearing. Coming from anyone else she might find it infuriating.

“I hug, don't act so shocked.” Villanelle protested her confusion, moving around to the other side of the island. She opened her arms and started to move in closer, closer, watching Eve's face as she realized what was happening. “Come to me... let me hug you.”

“I – no, I'm fine. Really.” Eve put her hands up, shaking her head.

“Then you want just to talk? About your husband?” Villanelle inquired, arms dropping to her sides. The word 'husband' felt like ashes in her mouth. It made her want to spit.

“I don't know what I want. I don't know... why I'm here, what I'm doing -” Eve began, circling her hands a little in front of her as if reaching for something tangible to explain her feelings.

“Why you came to me and not one of your friends?” Villanelle offered, sitting beside her. Close enough to take in just a wisp of her scent. She smelled faintly of rain.

“... Yeah.” Eve ran both hands over her face, relaxing in her seat.

In truth, Villanelle could think of a number of reasons why Eve would come to her. Any mutual friends she shared with Niko would be on his side. Her friends at MI6 didn't care about her personal life. Of everyone she knew, Villanelle was the most likely to be awake at that hour... and would throw aside anything she was doing to be in her presence, now that they finally had real access to one another. It was the only reason Villanelle had agreed to work with MI6; for Eve. For every time Konstantin had told her that Eve had forgotten about her, Villanelle had resolved a little more to do what it took to be with her. It was a happy coincidence that Eve thought of her when she needed help with some other lady killer. It was important that Eve reached out to her for things... and that Eve thought of Villanelle as much as Villanelle thought of Eve. With Villanelle, Eve was wanted.

“Well, let me get you a drink and if you wanna talk, talk. I promise I'll say nothing unless you ask me?” Villanelle shifted to stand, deciding the occasion called for Dom Pérignon. It wasn't every day that Eve made a house call.

There was a moment of silence as Villanelle pulled out an unopened bottle and gathered the proper glasses for the drink. Villanelle did not break that silence. When someone wanted to complain, sometimes they needed the empty air to do it to. When she turned to look back at Eve, she saw her eyes shoot straight to her face. Villanelle gave the barest of smirks. It was a clear indicator that Eve was either looking at her legs, ass, or a weapon, and didn't want it to be known.

“Do you like them?” She asked, lifting her arms a little to show her underwear better, giving her hips a little wiggle. 

“... You aren't wearing any trousers.” Eve muttered.

“It's 1:30 in the morning. You're the one who isn't dressed right.” Villanelle pointed out, moving back to her side and sitting. She prepared the bottle, giggling as she popped the cork, a noise which made Eve jump in her seat in surprise.

“Calm down, Eve. You have to let go a little... loosen up, yeah? All that stress is bad for your skin.” Villanelle told her, pouring two glasses.

Eve bypassed the glass and took the bottle, drinking straight from it. It was a long, long drink that surely didn't give her time to appreciate the vintage. The way her eyes slipped shut as the chilled champagne hit her throat was beautiful, like something out of a painting – or better, from some 80s music video with a big haired model letting loose. Villanelle had always loved those videos. She blamed much of her love of women on them. Being young and watching over and over again the Whitesnake video with the girl in the white dress dancing on the hood of a car... she gave a dreamy sigh louder than she intended. There was something feral in Eve waiting to be let loose that she had seen shades of before. The dull throb in Villanelle's belly was a landmark to that journey.

“Sorry.” Eve mumbled as she came up for air. Villanelle shrugged.

“You don't need to apologize for everything. Not when you're with me.” She told her gently, taking a sip from her glass. 

“Right... sure. Sorry.” Eve said, indicating that she hadn't actually been listening.

“You did it again.” Villanelle said with some measure of amusement, leaning her cheek against her palm. 

“Fuck. Force of habit, I guess. I've been feeling like I have to apologize a lot lately. It kind of... gets stuck in your head if you do it enough.” Eve explained.

“I wouldn't know. I'm not sorry for very much.” 

“I would imagine you aren't.” Eve took the glass that was poured for her, taking another long drink. 

“It's better not to always be sorry for things. Then you think about them too much and it's your whole life just worrying about things you should feel bad about, right? If you make a mistake, you make a mistake. You don't always have to feel so bad.” Villanelle said. Eve frowned a soft frown, a position her face molded to so easily it that it sparked just the tiniest hint of rage in Villanelle's gut. How dare the world make her frown so often that it was practically her default expression! She should feel joy, anger, ecstasy, not so beaten by her circumstances that she couldn't muster anything but passive sorrow. Villanelle wanted to steal her away.

“I have been pretty shitty lately... to Niko, at least. I've been a horrible wife, you know – I'm never home, I barely ever cook for him, I...” Eve trailed off, seeing the glare that manifested on Villanelle's face.

“Why, when a man is never home and never cooks is he still a good husband, but when a woman does it's a problem? You are successful. If he wants to have housewife he can go find one. Your job keeps him in ugly blazers and mustache wax. He should be thankful. He should be your housewife, if that's the sort of thing he wants.” Villanelle protested.

“It isn't that! It's just...” Eve deflated. “He moved in with another woman. Gemma. Says they're 'just friends.' Bullshit. You should see the way she looks at him.”

Villanelle gave no indication of her knowledge of Gemma and her strange crush on Niko. As far as she was concerned, the two were perfect for each other. Boring, white bread British people. Expendable. Run of the mill. The only thing special about Niko was that Eve had married him; other than that, he served no purpose. She despised him because he had Eve's love, and her worry, and her thoughts, and her body... Villanelle felt her gaze drifting, wandering her features with an appreciation that someone like Niko could never feel. Eve wore drab, muted colors, clothing either too large for her or layered in a way that made her nearly formless. She kept her hair bound in some way or another, reserved in all things that would gain her the notice or envy of others. She likely had to fight to be taken seriously by the people she associated with, and reflected that in her dress. She hid her beauty to avoid objectification. In a way, Villanelle found that even more alluring than she would if Eve flaunted that nice body of hers. 

That night, she wore a loose sweater that draped over her like a blanket, barely hinting at the figure that it hid. Her jeans were made for a man's body, hugging her hips awkwardly. Her hair was bound up away from her face, which itself was without makeup; not that she had any imperfections Villanelle could see to need even anything corrective. Villanelle longed to see her freed from the things that bound her. The clothing, the hair ties, the chunky jackets... her husband. She had seen her naked before, how slender and elegant she was. She wanted to see it without the fear that had come the first time. She wanted her naked and at her mercy willingly, begging for her touch. Without realizing it, Villanelle found that her fingers had begun to trace a pattern on the back of Eve's hand on the counter. Eve's skin was baby soft, and Villanelle found her heart racing. Christ, was she that desperate for her attention? Eve either didn't notice the touch or didn't care.

“... so happy, you know? It was nice. We'd have dinner parties with our friends, we would... go for weekend trips out to the countryside. Hole up at bed and breakfasts. All that boring couple stuff. I miss it.” 

Shit, Eve had still been talking; Villanelle scrambled for the context and the right response. Niko again. She was still talking about Niko, wasn't she? 

“Do you?” Villanelle asked, looking back up to her eyes. Those big, soulful Bambi eyes. She had never understood what people had meant about being “lost” in someone's eyes until she met Eve.

“Of course I do...” Eve returned, quickly enough for it to be defensive. 

“Do you want my opinion?” Villanelle raised a brow, still stroking her index finger over the other woman's hand. Eve had yet to withdraw.

“You know what? Just this once, yes. I want your opinion. So let's hear it. Tell me how boring that is, or how boring he is, or... whatever.” Eve snapped, quick to have her feathers ruffled when it came to Villanelle. It made her smirk.

“I think you are just romanticizing it. That you want more, and that you want to be excited.” Villanelle said, punctuating her words by moving in just a little closer. If anything, it would make Eve squirm in a way she found delightful.

“What does that even mean? Everyone wants to be content, don't they? And what do you mean by excited – my life is plenty exciting.” 

“I think you're remembering things you did with him better than they were... That you enjoyed how boring it was then, but there was always something missing. Excitement. Danger. The things you actually have interest in.” Villanelle challenged her. “For you, to be content is to be bored.”

“Don't act like you know me so well.” Eve withdrew her hand from the touch, grabbing the bottle again. Another long swig, so long that when she put the bottle back down she had to draw in a heavy breath.

“Don't I, though? I know you so well that it scares you. But you like to be scared, don't you?” Villanelle stayed where she was, unable to wipe the petulant grin from her lips. She would continue to egg her on, but wouldn't make the move physically. If she wanted Eve, she would have to let her come to her. And the best way to illicit a response from Eve, she had learned, was by pressing every button she could.

“I'm not afraid of you, Villanelle – not anymore.” Eve returned, missing the point. Villanelle went with the redirection as a challenge, however, standing up from her stool. Eve's eyes went just a degree wider, expression betraying her words as Villanelle stepped in closer. Almost close enough that her chest could touch Eve's back, but she kept a little bit of separation as she leaned over her shoulder... and picked an apple up from the basket on the opposite side. Villanelle could hear that she had stopped breathing momentarily as she sat down, smirking.

“I know.” Villanelle said, taking a bite of the apple.

“I could have gotten that for you.” Eve muttered, averting her eyes as Villanelle sank her teeth into the flesh of the fruit.

“Too late now, fearless Eve.” 

“I didn't say I'm fearless... I'm just not scared of you. Not like I used to be.” 

“When you stab someone it makes you fear them less, huh?” Villanelle took another bite. A bit of juice trickled down from the corner of her lip, which she gathered with her tongue, deliberately languid. Eve watched the movement openly for a brief moment, then looked away again. She fumbled to take the bottle again, pounding down another drink as if it were something stronger that could steady her nerves.

“How did it make you feel – to stab me?” Villanelle did not wait for a response to either statement, continuing, “Did it excite you?”

“I wasn't really... thinking when I did it. I was so tired and frustrated. I didn't even know I was going to until I was doing it. And then after, I was... terrified.” Eve answered, setting the bottle back down. It was nearly empty.

“Terrified?” Villanelle was surprised by that, setting the apple down, half eaten.

“I was scared that I had killed you. As angry as I was and as badly as I wanted to hurt you... I didn't want you to die.” Eve admitted, looking back up at her. Villanelle smiled gently, head tilting to the side as she watched her. 

“When I found out you were still alive, I had to find you. I had to see you again, to make sure it was true. I thought you might have forgotten about me.” Eve continued.

“I thought you were over me, too. 'Cause you were paying attention to that other assassin. I had tried to get your attention, to be honest, and when I didn't I was more mad than anything. But I could never forget you, Eve. Not while this is here.” Villanelle smiled, looking down and lifting her shirt to show the still-tender scar. Eve looked down, brows furrowing as she regarded the mark.

“Does it still hurt?” Eve mumbled, not taking her eyes off the spot.

“Sometimes it aches... it reminds me of you.” Villanelle said it with some measure of affection, looking down. From the corner of her eye, she saw Eve's hand lift, fingers stretching a little. She pretended not to notice. She left it exposed as an invitation; she wanted Eve to give in to her urges, the ones that told her it was okay to be curious.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Eve asked. It looked for a moment as if she was going to reach out to touch it, but thought better of it.

“It's good. I like to be reminded of you... to think of you.” Villanelle used her middle finger to draw a line over the scar, eyes fluttering shut. It was so sensitive that it made her sigh.

And then, she felt Eve's hand on her side, fingers curled around the curve of her back. She opened her eyes in time to see her thumb grazing over raised skin. It was electrifying, sending a current of pleasure through her torso like nothing she had ever felt before. She drew in a deep breath, lips parting as she turned her attention to Eve's face. Her gorgeous face, cheeks now stained pink. Was it embarrassment, arousal, or just a byproduct of the champagne? Regardless of the reason, Villanelle was entranced by the splash of color, using Eve's distraction to take a chance. She brought her hand up, brushing the back of her fingers along one of her cheeks.

For the first time in a long while, Eve did not pull away. Instead, she lifted her face to look up at Villanelle. The hand on her side gripped her lightly, experimentally. Eve stood, bridging the gap between them. With Villanelle still seated and Eve standing, they were the same height where Villanelle usually towered over her.

“How often do you think of me?” Eve asked. There was a tone to her voice that Villanelle had never heard before, but had imagined many, many times.

“All the time.” Villanelle admitted. She had the strangest sense of deja-vu.

“Do you?” Eve asked, taking the bottle with her free hand and finishing it off. Villanelle allowed her eyes to slip shut once again. With so little space between them she could feel her willpower bending, the urge to yank her flush and carry her to the bed nearly overwhelming. Self-control had never been her strong suit, but she knew the other woman well enough to know that she was not the one calling the shots. No matter how badly Villanelle wanted to rip that frumpy clothing off of her and take her against the counter, Eve would have to be the one to offer herself.

“I do.” Villanelle mumbled, opening her eyes. Her thumb brushed over Eve's jawline, her chin, just shy of her lower lip.

“When you think of me... what is it that goes through your mind?” Eve asked, voice still soft. She set the bottle down, and then rested her hand on Villanelle's shoulder. It was intimate, and Villanelle was nearly bursting at the seams. She brought up her own hand, placing it on Eve's hip.

“A lot.” She didn't clarify.

“Like what? The same things that go through mine?” Eve asked.

“I don't know if you really want me to answer that. I don't want you to leave.” Villanelle admitted, stroking her cheek in a way that was far more tender than Eve must have expected from her.

“Come on, I wanna know. Tell me everything. I'm not going to leave.” Eve pressed, bringing both hands to rest on her shoulders.

“Do you promise?” 

“I promise... I won't leave. And I won't stab you again. Once was enough for me.” 

“Yeah, me too.” Villanelle grinned, moving her other hand to Eve's hip. “What I think about when I think of you? Everything. I think about everything. How I want to be near you all the time. How I want to take care of you. How I want to put my head on your lap and have you pet my hair... How I hate your husband but I know you love him so I don't hurt him.”

“Villanelle-” Eve began to interrupt, but Villanelle brought a finger to her lips.

“I'm not done yet. I think about how I want to know everything about you. What kind of food you like, when your birthday is, if you're close with your family... I think about your body. Your hips, your hair, your eyes, your mouth. I think about what your face must look like when you come.” Villanelle kept her eyes trained on Eve's, laser focused; she wanted her to take in every part of what she was saying. This much closer, Villanelle could detect a hint of perfume under the smell of rain. She could tell it was the perfume she had given Eve before that was her namesake. She wondered if she had done it on purpose.

Eve's jaw was slightly slack at her word, but she kept her promise. She did not pull away, did not turn to leave. 

“And... What are you thinking about right now?” Eve asked. Her hand curled around the back of Villanelle's neck, holding her at the nape. She could feel her skin prickling in excitement.

“You swear you won't leave?” Villanelle hesitated.

“Tell me.” Eve said. It was practically a demand. Villanelle grinned darkly, squeezing her hips lightly.

“I'm wondering how you taste and trying my best to resist throwing you into my bed.” She gave her the honest answer she sought.

And then, fireworks exploded behind her eyelids, a wave of heat pulsing through her as Eve kissed her. The press of her lips was chaste, but the reaction it caused in Villanelle was wicked, nearly causing her to tremble at the weight of it. Her arms wrapped more tightly around Eve's midsection, squeezing her to her body. Eve had opened the door, and Villanelle, who had been locked out in the cold for ages, was more than happy to fall through. Eve's arms tightened around her shoulders, no longer draped but clinging, and almost of their own volition Villanelle felt her legs tensing to stand. Eve's feet left the floor, and the kiss deepened.

They stood, connected body to body, lip to lip, separated by layers of clothing that now seemed incomprehensibly hot and uncomfortable. Villanelle wanted them off, to press her cheek to the bare skin beneath it, to be inside of Eve and never leave again. Eve made a soft noise into her lips, and the arms around her shoulders tightened as she used them for leverage. Her legs lifted, parted – Villanelle dropped her hands down to assist, yanking her by the backs of the thighs so she could wrap around her waist properly. Her sleeveless shirt pushed up a little at the hem, bare skin against denim, and she could feel such heat from the other woman. She wanted to plunge herself into Eve's fire so badly that her mind swam, shutting down logic and reason in favor of submission to deeply carnal desire.

Villanelle moved them away from the counter – she could have placed Eve there, but then she wouldn't be able to press into her as hard as she wanted. The wall was close enough. She pressed Eve into it, hand moving from her thigh to the back of her head automatically to act as a barrier, protective of her health despite their history of violence. She wanted her to pass out from pleasure, not because she had cracked her head against the wall. Perhaps a hint of logic remained present in her mind, but it was a single purpose sort of logic – Eve needed to be fucked and she was the best woman for the job. She wouldn't hurt her unless she wanted to be hurt. Her fingers tried to thread into Eve's spectacular hair, but she was blocked by the tight binding of that fucking hair tie. She gave a growl into Eve's lips, pushing her hard into the wall to keep her propped, other hand moving back to her hair.

“I like it when you wear it down... I don't want you to tie it up when you're with me from now on, okay?” Villanelle whispered heavily against her mouth. 

“Oh-okay – I won't.” Eve's voice had dropped to a soft whimper as Villanelle took her hair down, loosing it to allow her fingers to bury in it. 

She tangled her fingers into Eve's curls, giving a short, pleased moan into her lips as she reconnected. She squeezed fingers in her hair a little, tugging it as she kissed her deeper still, tongue teasing along her lower lip. Eve had begun to rock against her belly but only just a little, as if she was still trying to maintain some semblance of restraint. That wouldn't do. While Villanelle would still stop if she asked, she couldn't have her holding back now that she had her here. Villanelle shifted, allowing Eve's body to slowly drop down a little, just enough to allow her to angle her own hips to press into her heat. Eve gasped against her as they slotted together tighter and Villanelle rocked slow and hard into her. 

Eve didn't know what she was doing, but she didn't need to. Villanelle had dreamed of this scenario often enough to know how to guide her (and had the experience to do it right). She gave Eve's lower lip a little nip, just to make her gasp, then diverted her lips to kiss a trail down her jawline, to her neck and right below her ear. She nuzzled her nose into the spot where her lower and upper jaw connected, pressing her cheek to Eve's for just a moment. It was tender, affectionate, almost an apology for what Villanelle would do next – she bit into her neck, experimental. It wasn't hard enough to leave a mark that would last past the night, but was enough to make Eve give a startled noise... and a reaction she was hoping for but not necessarily expecting. Eve's body stilled against her, almost going limp with pleasure, a whimpered moan pushing out from her throat. 

“Do you like that?” Villanelle purred against her neck, licking the spot. 

“I – I think I did? Is that weird or...” Eve muttered. Villanelle had pegged her as a masochist a long time ago and it was delightful to see that she wasn't off base.

“No, no... A lot of people like it to hurt a little. If I do too much, you tell me?” Villanelle reassured her, kissing the spot she had bitten.

“I will – god, your accent got a lot deeper all of a sudden...” Eve mumbled, bringing a hand up to stroke her hair back.

“That's bad?” Villanelle guessed, pulling back enough to look at her face.

“No, it's... it's very good.” Eve said quickly, palm resting against her cheek. She bit her lip, chewing it lightly, contemplation written in her features. “Villanelle, I...”

“Never done anything like this before?” Villanelle smirked. The hand on her palm pulled away and returned just as quick, a painless little smack for her sass. She grinned harder.

“No, you jackass. I was going to say... you're beautiful. And fascinating. And as it turns out, a really good kisser, and--” Eve started to do her nervous rambling only to be cut off again by Villanelle's lips on hers in a hard, overwhelming kiss that stole the breath from both of them. She pressed her hips harder into Eve's center, fingers tracing a line down her side to find the edge of her sweater. As she found her mark she slid her fingers against the skin beneath, she broke the kiss.

“You don't have to convince me to fuck you, Eve... I've wanted to since we met, you know.” She pressed her nose and forehead to Eve's, taking a moment to breath in her scent. Rain, perfume, and a hint of perspiration melded together, intoxicating and heady. Her eyes slipped shut as she held her to the wall, pressed against her heat. Her fingers stroked the soft skin still hidden away under the sweater.

“I – I think I've wanted that too...” Eve admitted, both hands now resting on Villanelle's cheeks. “I just – I was always scared, and with Niko...” 

Arms wrapping tight around her waist once again, Villanelle hauled her off the wall abruptly, irritated by the mention of her husband and resolving to erase the name from her lips, if only temporarily. If Villanelle had her way Eve would forget where she was born by the end of the night. Eve gave a soft squeak and wrapped her arms back around her shoulders as she was carried to the bed. Villanelle laid her down heavily, Eve's body bouncing once before settling. Her hair fanned out wildly about her head and her dark eyes focused on Villanelle once again. Something about her gaze melted away the irritation the mention had brought, once again stoking the fire in her belly.

“Tell me how much you want me, Eve,” She said, standing over her, “How much you want this.”

“Villanelle... I've dreamt about this so many times. Literally, I have dreams about you all the time and most of them are something like this... I think about you constantly and sometimes I get so turned on I can barely even function.” Eve told her, cheeks burning pink in embarrassment of her own words. As she spoke, Villanelle slowly peeled off the little shirt she was wearing, leaving her mostly exposed save for her panties. Eve drew in a shuddering breath at the sight. “Jesus Christ.”

“Take off your clothes, Eve,” Villanelle commanded, crawling to her from the edge of the bed, moving to her side. She said the next with her lips pressed to her neck, “Unless you want me to do it for you.”

Eve gave a rapid nod, shooting upright at her words, sitting back on her knees. Villanelle smirked as she propped herself on an elbow to watch. Eve fumbled to yank off her sweater, apparently overeager. It made Villanelle giggle, rolling her eyes and putting a hand out to stop her.

“Eve... slower. I want to enjoy this.” She said. Eve stopped, letting the sweater fall back down and taking a moment to collect herself. Villanelle could see how hard she was over-thinking it. The monologue in Eve's mind must have been a million questions; am I doing this right? Should I do this? What if my arm gets caught in this stupid sweater? Is this sexy enough? She must think x – y – z about me because I can't even take off my sweater! The idea of Eve being at all unsure of herself compelled Villanelle to shift to her knees and move to her. 

“Hi.” Eve mumbled, watching her approach. “Are you gonna do it for me now?”

“Mhm. And while I do it I'm gonna tell you how sexy you are.” She grinned. “So you relax... let go, okay? Let me take care of you. I don't want you nervous and freaking out.”

Eve didn't say anything, chewing her lower lip a little. In her eyes was not the uncertainty and hesitation she had once seen, but something new. Her eyelids grew heavy as Villanelle took the bottom of her sweater and pulled it up and off, discarding it off the side of the bed. She paused to put a hand over her heart, feeling it quicken beneath her palm, and further as Villanelle leaned in to press a kiss to her collarbone. All the while Eve watched her, curiosity and arousal written in her features.

“You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met, Eve... I think that everything about you is so perfect for me. I want to make you mine more than anything. I would kill anyone if you wanted me to. No charge!” Villanelle told her as she kissed along her collar to her neck, hands reaching back to unhook the nondescript bra Eve wore.

Eve pushed it off once unhooked, and reached a tentative hand out to touch Villanelle's bare skin, fingers trailing down from her shoulder to a breast. Her touch was curious and appreciative, but terribly slow. It was as if she worried that Villanelle would melt away if she moved too quickly – or like she was appreciating a sculpture she knew she wasn't supposed to be touching. Villanelle allowed it, however, despite how much she wanted to shove her down to ravish her properly. She could do that another time (or maybe later that night). Bringing her hands down to the button of the jeans, Villanelle continued her task, even as Eve brushed her fingers like velvet across her nipples and made it intensely difficult to concentrate.

“If you asked I would run away with you and we could make a life somewhere far away. You would never be bored with me. I would make sure.” Villanelle said as she unbuttoned the jeans and pulled down the zip. She took hold of them and shoved them down to her knees, and felt the hand on her chest still.

“You want to run away with me?” Eve asked. Villanelle grabbed her around the waist, lifting her like a ragdoll and pulling her legs out from under her, laying her back down. The jeans were off in an instant after, and she brought her hands up to Eve's panties... which were apparently the one sexy indulgence she allowed herself. Black lacy boyshorts that cupped her perfectly in every spot. Villanelle had to close her eyes for a moment, swearing at herself in Russian to control herself. The heat that had never left her belly spread to her chest, coiling up in her nerves and shooting directly to her crotch. She shifted her hips and opened her eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Yes, but... later. Right now all I want to do is make you moan for me. I really like your underwear.” Villanelle told her.

“Thanks.” Eve said weakly, hands resting on the bedspread. Her breathing was heavy and it took what little restraint Villanelle had left to avoid letting her eyes wander back up. She wanted to luxuriate in the sight all at once when she had Eve exactly how she wanted her. Fully nude, wet, and waiting for her to unleash herself.

She dragged the panties down her thighs slowly, taking note of the scars along her thighs. She understood them instantly and decided that she would take her time later kissing each and every one of them. When the panties were off she threw them aside and sat back on her heels to look at her. To really look at her in a different light. Under her scrutiny Eve fidgeted, closed her legs tight as if she thought Villanelle was seeking out imperfection, a thought that made her frown. To remove the discomfort, she moved over her, covering her body with her own. Eve seemed instantly relieved, bringing a hand to Villanelle's cheek.

“You're... way more considerate than I thought you would be.” Eve remarked, stroking her cheek with undeniable affection. Villanelle raised a brow, smirking.

“You want I should be inconsiderate and hump on you like a man?” She returned. Eve laughed that delighted bark of a laugh that she loved to hear. Villanelle slid her fingers down her side.

“No! Maybe... I don't know. I want a lot of things right now. You seem so calm and collected, it's kind of intimidating.” Eve answered. “I can't believe I'm actually doing this – that we're doing this, that I'm naked and you're gorgeous and...”

Eve trailed off as Villanelle stroked her fingers over her belly and down to rest between her thighs, cupping her mound. She didn't dare to dip her fingers into her folds yet, biting her lip as she felt her. She was radiating heat, swollen and waiting, leaking her arousal so heavily that her fingers were already slick just by resting against her. Eve was hers now, hers to hold, to fuck, to love the way she had only been able to imagine before. Lonely nights conjuring up shadowed images of the other woman and getting off to assumptions about how she would behave. Times when that wasn't enough and she would find another girl who vaguely resembled her in some way to have for a night. They all left her with a longing for something more, something real, not the fleeting ghost of emotions that she normally felt. With Eve, everything she felt was razor sharp and intense.

She didn't dare tell Eve that she was just as nervous. That beneath her admittedly intense arousal there was an undercurrent of worry. Worry that Eve wouldn't want anything to do with her after this, worry that Eve was only coming to her because she was on the outs with her husband... worry that it didn't mean as much to Eve as it did to her. Thankfully she was soon able to take that feeling and allow it to be washed away in a tsunami of beautiful sensation as an invitation was extended. Eve had parted her legs to the touch, and Villanelle was awash, dipping her head down to kiss her hard once more. She slid her middle finger between Eve's labia, enveloping it in her wetness, bringing it up in one smooth stroke to find her clit. Eve gasped against her lips, spreading wider to allow better access, her hands practically flinging themselves up to hold on to Villanelle.

“So sensitive, baby.” Villanelle purred, pressing and rolling the little bundle of nerves gently, feather light to tease. 

She added her index finger, trapping her clit between them, rubbing from either side. It was as if she had flipped some switch inside of Eve, because where once she just laid still she now began to move, pressing her hips up to Villanelle's manipulations, fingers threading into her hair. She moaned and whimpered, placing desperate kisses to Villanelle's lips and face, far more responsive then she had even imagined. She was so worked up that Villanelle was sure she could bring her to orgasm quickly. She manipulated her with consistent motions, moving her lips down to her neck to draw the tender skin between her teeth. Eve jerked a little, shuddering beneath her mouth, surely feeling the smile on her lips as she did.

“Villanelle!” Eve gasped. Hearing her name spoken in such a way caused a soft moan to work its way out, buried into Eve's skin.

“Don't worry baby... I won't leave marks where anyone can see. Anything I leave will be for me.” She assured her, kissing the spot once more.

“Mark me!” Eve begged, fingers digging crescent moons into Villanelle's shoulders.

Mouthing a curse into her neck, Villanelle withdrew her fingers (which made Eve whimper harder) only temporarily to move down her body. Eve wanted to be marked and she was happy to oblige her feral urges. She drew a line with her tongue as she slinked down Eve's form, stopping at her breasts. She wedged her body back into its spot between her legs. Eve's breasts were small and so very perfect, nipples pale brown and erect, just waiting for Villanelle's mouth. Instead she went right above and once again sank her teeth into her, hand slipping back down. With no preamble or teasing, Villanelle did what she had been waiting all night to do.

Two fingers found their mark, pushing into Eve's waiting depths, thumb rolling her clit hard as she bit her breast hard enough to bruise. With the crook of her fingers, Villanelle sent Eve over the edge. The sound of Eve's sharp cry and the following soft, sustained moans, the feel of her inner walls constricting around her fingers, the arching of her body against her as she came was almost enough to send Villanelle to her own peak without even a touch. She whimpered into Eve's chest, so close it almost hurt but desperate to please her more. She kissed and licked the mark on Eve's breast, giving in to an animal desire to soothe the pain she had caused. She continued to massage her inside to work her through her climax, relishing the sounds that her actions gifted her. 

“Oh my god, Villanelle, holy shit...” Eve whispered as another tremor passed through her. Her arms had wrapped around Villanelle's head, holding her to her chest.

“You want more, baby? You want me to taste you?” Villanelle looked up from where she lay, eyes heavy lidded. She withdrew her fingers, watching Eve's face. There was a soft sheen of perspiration at her hairline, cheeks stained pink.

“I... you want to...” Eve stammered. Villanelle gave a little grin.

“To go down on you? God yes. It's my favorite thing, you know.” Villanelle informed her. Eve couldn't hold the gaze, looking off somewhere in the distance.

“Can... would you mind if we... didn't do that yet? I mean I absolutely, one hundred percent want that in the very near future, don't get me wrong. Just for now – can we just lay together for a while?” Eve spoke soft and quick, as if worried for what Villanelle's reaction would be. “I'm just sort of, um, overstimulated and...”

Villanelle's heart melted for what must have been the fiftieth time in the past two hours, and she leaned up to drop herself to Eve's side. She pulled Eve's smaller body into hers, leaning down to kiss her gently. Reaching for the sheets, she pulled it up over them both.

“Of course. I'm considerate, remember?” She told her, fingers brushing the wild curls from Eve's face.

“Oh – oh god, and I'm an asshole – what about you? Do you want me to...” Eve met her eyes finally. Villanelle gave a giggle, kissing her on the nose.

“Don't worry about me. We have all night. I fully intend to get off and to fuck you 'til you walk like a baby deer, but we do it at your pace, yeah?” She reassured.

Eve relaxed in her arms, brows furrowing.

“Villanelle?” 

“Hmm?” 

“I think I love you.”

Villanelle kissed her again. “... I know I love you, Eve.”


End file.
